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In the Shadows
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The Old Stuff That final bell rings
Signaling the end of monotony
And beginning the skin-turning ebony
Beneath the equator�s lamp.
Her crisp body rhythmically promenades
To the Jamaican steel drum band
Amidst the ocean, far from land
Beneath the hand-painted canvas.
Such dance encouraged a night of rest.
Dreams of what she lacked: passion.
Dreaming to be held tight with compassion.
But in her slumber she saw the sky crumble.
She awoke to what would be the sunrise
But through the glass she saw tears,
Tears as numerous as her fears.
Stationary running from the pensive light.
Hiding behind the beauty of the open sea
Her loneliness peered around the wall
She caught a glimpse, enough to make her fall,
Collapsing into the arms of a dream.
In her blackened, exhausted slumber
The equatorial heat evaporates her veins
And her solitude locks tight the chains
Around her heart, swollen in pain.
